Always Greener
by TheKnightEternal
Summary: A Lovecraftian short story inspired by the cosmic horrors of the unknown.


He remembered her face so clearly, those beautiful blue eyes, her full lips and luscious blonde hair. That warm smile that made his heart race. The face of an angel he had thought. She had been the first. His advances had been dismissed initially, who was he to approach a beauty such as her? But eventually he had succeeded, she allowed him into her life, into her little world. Over time she grew to love him, to understand his strange nature and quirky habits. All the things that made him what he was today, they made her love him more. "I wish" he had said "that it saddened me to kill her, to lose that little piece of myself that I had invested in her" But it hadn't, the day had come as a relief. He could move on now, to bigger things, to greater things. There had been many but she had been the first.

He sat now, in a sparse and empty cell, reflecting on all of the women he had met and loved, for some time anyway. It had become a game to him but, as these things often do, it had become dull. It was too simple. He had started running through the motions, barely conscious of what he was doing as he lured women into his net. It had become tedious, that was when he upped the stakes. So to speak. The challenge now lay in thwarting the authorities, proving himself in the eyes of the world. He wasn't that killer that wanted to be caught, no his disease was not as clichéd. He wanted to best them, to remain free and to live out his days in relative solitude whilst still indulging in his hobby. Not too often of course, just enough to get by. It had been too much to ask for, he was arrogant and made a mistake. _The curse of the great_. They had tracked him down and here he was, hours away from execution. That barbaric chamber they end lives with, waiting to put him down as it had countless others. He didn't fear death nor was he eager to embrace it. The cold emptiness of the abyss awaits every man but his time had not come yet. He had more to do, more to see on this decadent world. He lay down on his bunk, musing at the strange hand fate had dealt him when he felt it. A strange tingling sensation ran down his spine and through his joints. Tickling at his bones as it slowly numbed his senses. Prison food he thought to himself as a slow ache pulsed from his stomach.

His eyes were closing, drooping slowly as he allowed his mind to wander through distant dreams and memories. Shallow breathing alerted him to the presence of someone in his cell, how did they get in? He wondered. He opened his eyes and searched the room. There was no one there. He closed his eyes again, the mind plays tricks on the tired he thought as he slowly relaxed. His heart beat slowed to a steady rhythm as he fell into a deep sleep.

He didn't know what woke him, pulling him from his dreams. The cell was dark and silent, the lights had been switched off as he slept. He inhaled deeply, letting the air expand his lungs. The air seemed thicker, more potent somehow. The taste of copper filled his mouth, waking his taste buds from their slumber. Must have bitten my tongue in my sleep he thought as he rose from the small bed. He walked, bare foot, to the toilet built into the wall. The moonlight illuminated him as he tiptoed across the hard, cold floor. There were no windows in his cell. He slowly turned to the source of the light. A bulb on the wall? He wondered as he walked towards it. He hadn't noticed it before. Strange. It moved as he approached it, sliding along the wall as he stood rooted to the spot, bewildered. Not a light bulb, he realised as it stopped on the opposite wall. A light that emanated from the wall itself, it began to pulse slowly, growing. He stood back as the light expanded, tearing open the wall, it spreads across the room. He shielded his eyes as the brightness glared at him, casting shadows across the hard surfaces around him. The low pulse softened, still audible but quieter than moments before. He moved his hand from his eyes as the light began to fade. What stood before him was an impossibility, an abnormality in the fabric of the world. Science would call it an aberration whilst logic would deny its existence. A shimmering doorway stood before him, vibrating as it fought against the laws of nature, pushing its existence upon the world. He stared silently at the door, his agile mind processing the implications of its appearance. He wondered whether he was still dreaming, this eerie apparition simply a figment of his imagination. He took a step closer, glancing through the door way into the realm beyond. His heart almost stopped, what was this trick he thought? A desolate land stood before him, spanning as far as the eye could see, barren except for the outline of trees in the distance. Shadows framed the landscape, distant mountains? He thought as he cautiously moved towards the door. He felt drawn to it, to the world that lurked within. The possibility of escape seemed too good to be true yet here it stood, waiting to be seized. He exhaled deeply, building up the courage to walk through the gateway. He was dead anyway, he thought and stepped through the door.

His first breath of the strange air nearly buckled him over, the acrid taste of it causing him to retch. He knelt down upon the sand as he recovered, feeling the loose earth beneath his fingers. It was hard and gritty, like cement that had been filed down and mixed with soil. He rose from his position and looked at his surroundings for the first time. The sky was tinged with red, casting an uneasy glow upon the land. Sunset, he thought as he walked forwards.

His feet were sore and blistered by the time he reached the first outcrop of trees. Their inviting outlines had masked the hidden truth of them. Gnarled and burnt, the trees seemed lifeless, save for the sap that trickled down their broken forms. He stared at the closest tree, not recognizing its scarred shape and examined the sap. It oozed out of the bark, dripping onto the barren ground beneath it before sinking into the sand. He furrowed his brow as the thick red sap slipped out of sight. Then the cataclysm came. It clasped his sanity, gripping and squeezing it until he fell to his knees in fear. Terror seized the heart of him, leaving him as an empty shell, as barren as the lands before him. It was horror made flesh, the hideous formation of the foul and grotesque. The speed at which it occurred was stupefying and horrifying-one moment the red, quiet skies stood above him, the next they seemed engulfed by the chaotic perversions of a mad man. Screams filled the air, horrible screams, screams that threatened to drive him from consciousness. Beasts swept down upon him from dizzying heights, their massive wings lathered with viscera and sweat. Ravenous and nauseating, they tore at his spirit, clawed at his sanity from afar. Titanic abominations, which could only have come from the depths of hell, strode towards him, their numerous eyes leaking mucous and pus across the ground. The cacophony of screams reached its sickening crescendo, the voices of millions in anguish and pain crying out for respite from the madness. He toppled over, the warm earth biting into his flesh as eager mouths attempted to devour him. He pulled himself from the ground, his arms felt weak under the weight of his body as he attempted to escape the ravaging mouths that now made up the ground he had fallen upon. He convulsed, bile trying to push its way up from his stomach. His skin itched, the tingling sensation he had felt earlier returned and made its way across his body. He held back a scream as the itch turned to pain, wracking his body in more convulsions. He fell back to his knees, the pain was unbearable, and stared at his aching hands. It was no longer his familiar palms that greeted his eyes, his skin was falling from his flesh. Melting and burning as it fell from his hands it revealed a black, scorodite like surface beneath. Moving on its own accord they twisted and reformed into horrible shapes that his mind could not fathom, could not understand. He screamed loud and hard and louder still as he realised his voice had joined the litany of pain.

The steel cap was cool upon his head, the sponge beneath it already releasing the water into his dirty hair. A warden checked his straps, ensuring their tightness and positioning before nodding to the officiators "Good to go" A stern looking man in a suit walked up to him, staring down his nose at the inmate "Any last words?" he enquired gruffly. The man in the chair stared up at him, a mad grin spreading across his face.


End file.
